


The Perils of Babysitting

by Lost_Elf



Series: The King of Stone [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, Babysitting, Domestic Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Infertility, Kid Fic, King of Stone Handsome Jack, Light Angst, M/M, The Mage Rhys Strongfork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: Rhys owes Vaughn a lot, and that's how he ends up babysitting his daughter, with only Jack to help him. Fluff and a little tiny bit of angst ensues.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Vaughn/Yvette (Borderlands) (background)
Series: The King of Stone [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752406
Kudos: 17





	The Perils of Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the rest of the series, that's fine. This work contains a major spoiler for the first and main work, but it can be read on its own if you aren't planning to read the whole thing. :) This universe is Mpreg compliant, and that's the only thing you need to know.

_“Vaughn, wait – you can’t be serious!” Rhys’ eyes widened in horror that, to be fair, probably was way too exaggerated. He already knew that none of his excuses are valid. He still wanted to try._

_“Deadly serious, Rhys,” his best friend gave him a stern look. “Come on, you owe me one. You owe me a million! Do this for me this one time, bro. Don’t let me down…”_

_“Ugh, fine!”_

And here they are. Little Meredith crying in his arms, her parents driving away for a long-overdue long weekend. Feelings of dread, despair, and absolute panic slowly settled into Rhys as colour drained from his face. The only thing keeping him above was Jack’s presence behind him, reassuring, because at least there is _someone_ who knows how to handle a baby.

“You aren’t supporting her head enough, pumpkin,” he notes, and it’s only thanks to years of practice that Rhys doesn’t startle.

“That’s it,” he grits through his teeth. “Jack, can you take her?”

Fortunately, his husband doesn’t push him anymore, either recognising that Rhys is already reaching his limits, or just looking forward to holding the baby. He takes her and cradles her to his chest like he did many times before to many babies. Rhys never did that. He comes from a small family, an only child. Meri was the first baby he ever held. And he is sure that she hated every second of it.

As if to prove him right, the girl calms down in Jack’s arms instantly, babbles some gibberish and falls asleep. The younger man watches it in disbelief while the older one just smiles knowingly, as if he used some well-known spell on babies that everybody except for Rhys knows. Before he could get any angrier and wake the child up, Rhys let out a silent frustrated groan and walked away to a guest room, picking up his work laptop on the way.

He hated it. Call it jealousy all you want, he just hated that Jack was so good at handling kids even though he was notoriously known for not being a people’s person at all, unfriendly, rude and arrogant. When it came to kids, he was a natural. So unlike Rhys.

It took Rhys a lot of angry typing and correcting errors he wouldn’t be making if he wasn’t so riled up to realise that he can’t bury this problem in work. He considered going back there and – if not anything else – at least having a proper chair to sit on while he works, even though laying on a bed on his stomach has its perks. But no, he will just give them some space. Space to become the best uncle and niece. Without him, the _godfather_. The _absolutely_ _useless godfather_ that can’t even hold the baby right.

Some time into his inner monologue, Rhys starts dozing off. He hears the doors to other rooms opening one by one, but his body is too relaxed and mind too numb to react.

When the door to his room opens, Rhys is only just beginning to blink sleep out of his eyes. He hears Jack murmur something, undoubtedly to Meri, and then walk closer. Jack settles on the edge of the bed and waits a second. Then, something warm and heavy is placed on Rhys’ back.

“Oh my God, Jack…” he groans in annoyance. “Did you just… Did you just put her on my back?”

“That’s right, cupcake,” his husband hums. “That’s no reason to stop breathing. Relax. Her nappy is clean, and she had lunch; she will stay asleep.”

Rhys relaxes a little, realising that he, indeed, slowed his breathing too much. After taking a few deeper breaths, making sure the baby doesn’t fall off with the swell of his chest, he manages to find a comfortable position, shifting, so he can breathe freely. “She will not, though,” he says, insisting. “She’ll wake up and scream bloody murder until she is with someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“And that _he_ is your super-awesome husband?” Jack guesses. He sounds unimpressed, and Rhys knows what face he is making without even looking. “Well, I _do_ know what I’m doing. But that’s only because I’ve _done this before_. This didn’t come to me overnight, princess…”

Rhys huffs. “You practiced this speech,” he notes, because he just knows. They had been together for so long. He can imagine the ensuing eyeroll.

“You know I’m not good at this…” Jack groans.

“Unlike babysitting – you are _excellent_ at that.”

“That was unnecessary, Rhys, don’t you think?” With a long sigh, Jack flops down beside him, shaking the whole bed, and Rhys would slap him if he wasn’t incapacitated by the baby on his back, that was also shaken by the movement. He wants to scream at Jack that he is crazy, that this could have been dangerous, but that would only wake the girl that is, thankfully, still sound asleep.

“ _This_ was unnecessary,” he hisses. “The whole bed shook! You could have hurt her, you eccentric ass!” He would like to see Jack’s reaction now, but he still can’t. “Can you take her off?” he asks, voice calmer.

“I dunno. Would an eccentric ass help you out? What do you think, pumpkin?”

He can’t tell how much he did or didn’t hurt Jack from his carefully controlled tone, and so he accepts the worst. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I just— I’m just so frustrated by this.”

“And is that a reason to call someone who’s helpin’ you names?”

Oh, he does know _that_ tone. He really overstepped, but Jack is giving him one chance to fix it before they have an unnecessary fight. It takes swallowing his dignity and pride in one large gulp, and then he can say: “No, that was really stupid. I’m sorry. I’m angry at myself, not you… Help me, please?”

The older man doesn’t say anything, but he sits up and takes Meredith off Rhys’ back. When the younger man moves to sit up, though, he clucks his tongue. “Better idea, cupcake. Lay on your back.”

Rhys wants to object, but he knows he is still threading thin ice. He complies, and his breath catches in his throat when Jack puts the baby girl on his chest this time. She cries a little, complaining about so much manipulation, but then she settles again, contently drooling on his shirt in her slumber.

“You see,” Jack hums, self-satisfied. “Not hard at all.”

Rhys snorts. “I’m not really doing anything, Jack.”

“I’m talking about relaxing, dumdum. You’ve finally relaxed. No wonder she was always nervous around you when you were tense and scared of her. But once you relax, she can show you how good she can be.”

It all… makes sense, no matter how hard Rhys tries to find holes in that logic. He relaxed a lot since Jack and Meri first entered the room. His husband was right, again.

Rhys huffs another frustrated sound. “How do you know all that? And _don’t_ say years of practice. You just _know_ , like on instinct! Why don’t I have the same instinct?” A familiar ache settles into his heart. It’s gonna be one of _those_ days, then. He should be past that already; he always knew he won’t be able to have his own children unless a miracle happens.

“Rhysie…”

Jack’s voice turned softer, but it’s useless. The younger man shakes his head as he fights his internal battle. Meredith stirs on his chest, probably disturbed by his trembling, and Jack takes her into his arms before she can wake fully. With another sigh, he pats Rhys’ thigh. “Come to the living room, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, carrying the baby away.

It takes a few minutes for Rhys to calm down, squish the stupid longing and feelings he shouldn’t be having, and then he can walk down the stairs with his chin held high. But the universe gives him a hit to the back of his head when he sees Jack cooing over the sleeping baby.

It’s not the usual type of cooing – that would have him concerned, because he never witnessed Jack showing that much affection – but he is talking to the girl in a soft voice and he watches her sleep with something close to fascination. He wraps her pink blanket tighter around her, making sure she is warm, and even in that rather systematical movement there has a hint of a gentle gesture that tugs at the younger man’s heart.

 _This could be them_. They could have their own children and be like that. Rhys could see this every day, see Jack be a good father.

But they can’t, and they won’t.

“Stop sulking and come sit down for a minute.” Jack’s voice pulls him back to reality, and Rhys reluctantly joins him on the sofa where Jack has finally sat down. Meredith is still asleep, now in an old crib that Jack got out for this occasion. Angel’s name is carved in amazing woodwork on the side. Rhys tied a black ribbon close to the carving – but safely out of reach of the baby – when he cleaned the old crib of dust, but Jack either didn’t notice or very convincingly ignored it, or maybe he didn’t see it for the gesture it was.

The younger man went to sit down, but he was pulled to sit in the other man’s lap instead. He hesitated, but then he wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and rested his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. He relaxed as Jack started stroking his back and hair gently, although quite gingerly. Cuddling never was their everyday thing, and it only spoke about how serious Jack thought the situation to be. The need to talk matters out loomed over them until one of them finally broke the silence again.

“I have a theory,” Jack says. “About all the drama you’re causing today.”

Rhys knew that his husband knows, but he still kept some hope that they will avoid talking about the obvious thing. His heart couldn’t take it. “Tell me,” he mumbled anyway, subconsciously pressing even closer to Jack, needing to feel secure and feeling stupid for that. He literally has only _one_ weakness, and his godchild managed to find it.

“Does it have anything to do,” the other man hesitates for only a second, “with your infertility?” Rhys’ tense shoulders and a huff are enough of an answer for him to continue. “You know you can tell me... If you want, we can put our name back on the list...”

 _The list_. Two years ago, they contacted an adoption service, got elected as suitable candidates, and then they waited. And waited. They haven’t been chosen for over a year, and the uncertainty and self-doubts were eating away at Rhys and hurting their relationship. They had to cancel the application and take a month break from each other before the damage could be undone.

Rhys stopped talking about kids for good, and Jack, who already wasn’t much of a communicative person, never brought it up again. They both knew from the beginning of their relationship that they won’t be able to conceive. Maybe they should have just accepted it, and not go against the fate.

“No,” Rhys sighs. “I don’t— I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Okay, what do you want to do, then?” Annoyance creeps into his voice slowly, just like last time. No, Rhys really doesn’t want to go through that again. All those fights that could be avoided, sleeping in different rooms, blaming, irrational mood swings that annoyed him more than they annoyed Jack, because he considered himself to be a very rational person, and he _shouldn’t_ be feeling like _that_.

“Let’s just survive this weekend,” he decides. “And then we can put it back to ice.”

Jack contemplates him for a long minute, searching his face for clues on his mood. He ultimately assumes that the case is closed and pats Rhys’ hip to gently nudge him off his lap. Rhys stands up with a huff and an eyeroll, offering a hand to Jack to help pull him to his feet. That earns him a raised eyebrow, and he rolls his eyes again.

“She’s wakin’ up,” Jack points out, and as if she was waiting for his signal, Meredith begins to stir. “If she starts crying and doesn’t stop after you pick her up, money’s on her nappy being full. Babies really only do three things, and she already ate and slept.”

“You can just say that you want me to change her diaper,” Rhys groans. “Seriously?”

“More than that,” Jack _winks_ at him. “I want you to hold her, walk with her for a little, and _then_ change her diaper.”

“Why?” Rhys frowns at him. He can’t figure out his husband’s endgame. He was right with the relaxing, but it’s not like spending more time with the baby will miraculously change everything.

Still, when Meri starts crying, he dutifully picks her up and starts walking through the house. She calms down for a while, almost falling asleep again, and that has Rhys ready to call a miracle, but then she starts screaming and twisting in his arms, almost managing to fall off.

Rhys’ heart beats as if he is running a marathon when he tries to find out what he is doing wrong, why is the baby trying to jump from his arms, and Jack isn’t helping, only watching. He is about to tell him that this is not funny, that he doesn’t want her to hurt herself and the self-centred moron should start helping, but then he remembers. Nappy, right…

Jack already managed to spill the contents of the neatly packed bag they got from Yvette – clean diapers, baby powder and wet wipes laying all around a mat. Supposedly, everything is ready, and all he needs to do is take off her onesie, change her diaper, put clothes on again… It’s not like he never binge-read a website for young parents and all the possible guides and hacks… But actually doing something is—

Jack bursts out laughing besides him. “You are pale as a ghost, pumpkin! Scared of ol’ dirty nappy?”

Muttering a curse in his husband’s direction, Rhys kneels down by the mat and gently, maybe overly carefully, puts Meredith down. As he undoes the buttons of the onesie, she only starts crying more and more. Frustration bubbles up in him until he snaps. “Maybe it would be wiser if you did it, Jack.” He doesn’t put much malice into his voice both not to startle the baby and because there is not enough venom in the world to actually unsettle Handsome Jack.

“Nope.”

Of course. Rhys grits his teeth, about to unleash some more choice words, but he stops when he sees Jack moving. The actor nonchalantly sits down beside him, the crying baby doing nothing to his patience, nerves or ego. “You should talk to her,” he finally gives some advice. “You wouldn’t want a complete stranger unbuttoning your pants either. She doesn’t see you, you’re too far. But she knows your voice.”

Even as he speaks, Meri seems to calm down a little. Rhys takes a deep breath and continues working. “Hey, Meri? Can I call you Meri? I mean, we are basically family – I’m your godfather, remember? I’m gonna change your diaper now. Are you alright with that? Nono, don’t say anything, I got you.”

He feels a little silly at first, but the baby finally stops crying. He manages to remove her diaper and wash her – fortunately, there wasn’t any nasty surprise – put on a clean one and button up the onesie without further incident.

“Great, training done!” Jack hums. “I give her thirty minutes, and then you’re doing it again.”

At Rhys’ annoyed question he points out that she still didn’t poo, repeating his stupid joke about the only three things babies do. He also reminds him that Rhys is on diaper duty till the end of Meredith’s stay. Asshole.

* * *

If Rhys had any hope that Jack’s plan will work, he thought that it would be a small, slow change. Maybe finally being able to tell what the baby needs by the end of the weekend, or maybe getting more comfortable holding her.

But in reality, the change was so big and so fast it almost gave him whiplash. After a night spent waking up every couple hours, and with Jack refusing to get up, Rhys and Meredith became a strong team.

Jack, for once, didn’t seem the tiniest bit bothered by the fact that he isn’t getting any time in the spotlight. He let Rhys make all meals for Meri, bathe her, pick clothes for her, lull her to sleep. He popped in with advice when needed but otherwise left them alone.

And Rhys didn’t mind having the baby all for himself. If you can tell by the position he was found in on Monday morning, when Vaughn and Yvette came to pick their daughter up. Lazing on the sofa with Meri napping on his stomach, flipping through TV channels while keeping one protective hand on the baby’s back.

They grew close – too close. In case it all came to this unlikely ending, Rhys was prepared for the parting to be hard. He thought he would be sad when Yvette takes Meredith from his arms and cuddles her close, cooing at her with love in her face, her _mother_. But he is just alright, a little tired but overall fine. Maybe he really put way too much thoughts into a simple long weekend of babysitting.

Jack took him out for lunch after Vaughn, Yvette and Meredith left, and being spoiled always worked on Rhys. He finished a small project in the afternoon but didn’t bother sending it to the client yet because they didn’t bother to pay him enough for him to really want to please them. Not that he needed any income, but he could still be paid fair price, right?

Jack spent the afternoon reading a script for the next week of shooting. He must have really liked the scriptwriter if he bothered to memorise the lines they wrote – if not, he would read it once and then improvise on set. Now, his eyes were tired, and he kept an arm on his face to shield them from light while Rhys was getting ready for bed.

As soon as the younger man was in bed too, Jack mumbled an order for the lights to turn off, getting it right on the third try. He probably still kept some hope that the AI will learn to recognise his _‘ights ‘ff_ as a sentence.

When the room is swallowed in darkness, Rhys is surprised to feel a familiar pain he has _no right to feel_ creep its way back into his heart again. But Jack’s arm went from his face to Rhys’ hip, nudging him to turn around. This could only go one way, and after five or so days with no fun, Rhys really wasn’t going to object. He forgot about the pain.

An hour later, he returned to bed after a quick shower to his already snoring husband. He nudged Jack’s mouth shut with one finger, smirking at the ungraceful view. Something urged him to kiss Jack’s cheek, and because there wasn’t any reason not to indulge himself, he did it. Rolling on his usual side, Rhys fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face. He was exactly where he wanted to be in life.

In the morning, Rhys woke up with Jack’s arm wrapped around his middle, hand resting on his stomach. It was new, and his first thought was that Jack was woken up by his kiss in the evening and felt the need to comfort his surely emotional husband – which was cute, really – but it was probably just that Jack rolled over and didn’t find a better position than laying like that and drooling in Rhys’ hair. Gross.

“Get off me, Jack,” Rhys groaned, though his tone was light with amusement. “If I have to take one more shower, my skin will get completely dried out!”

“Sh’t up ‘n buy a moisturiser,” Jack grumbled in return as he rolled on his back. “Idiot.”

“Asshole,” Rhys stuck his tongue out at him, and he made sure to be as loud with his morning routine as possible, even humming a melody. Some pleasant melancholy filled him with warmth that day. A grumpy Jack wasn’t about to stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting)!
> 
> If you didn't read the rest of the King of Stone series, I highly recommend you do so, as it is my best work so far! ^.^"


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